III. When a Rock Star Dies
I'm not obsessive, you know. I don't think you get that. I'm just enthusiastic. They used to call me that when I was a child. They'd say, "As for her work, she's… enthusiastic," and people would laugh and I didn't understand. Then they'd call me a little heartbreaker and say how the boys were going to love me, and I'd smile all over and feel like my feet were going to lift off the ground in my happiness. So I've always been like this. There was boy band after boy band, and each ex-crush's name, carefully contained within hearts drawn in silver pencil across all my books, would be scribbled out impatiently and lovingly replaced with the name of my new future husband. I don't mean to make you jealous but I'm just telling you- I was always passionate, and committed to the things I like.
Oh, I'm getting this all wrong.
What I wanted to tell you was that I'm not obsessive, not at all. It was easy to find you, actually, once you got my messages. I was just trying to get a reply from you, so I'd know that you knew about me. That's all I wanted. I didn't think it looked so suspicious. I should say thank you for not being what I expected and for having a weird name. I might never have found you otherwise. You probably get this too- it's a lot harder to remember faces and names if you really need to. But with you there was no trouble.
I'm not obsessive. People died, but people die all the time, you understand that. You're killed innocents, too. I read the papers. People get in your way and you kill them. It's the same as me, and I only wanted to meet you. They died so I could help you, just like you've killed people so you can carry on. You see, we're the same after all. I've always known that.
I'm not obsessive. I know I said I'd die for you, and I meant that, but it doesn't mean very much to me. You know when a rock star dies and they do a feature in the magazines? There's always a picture of them there, young, at the height of their fame, all in leather or sequins. But you know they didn't look like that when they died- they were old and fat and tired, and the drugs probably showed on their faces by then, too. I don't want to be like that. I don't want to get old and lose my fans and be called a has-been. I want to get better and bigger and brighter all my life, and I want the picture of me in the newspaper columns after I die to look exactly like I do in the coffin. That's why I can say I'd die for you.
I'm not obsessive. But you're all I have. For a long time- and I don't want to talk about it very much but it's the sort of thing I have to tell you for us to be together, you know- I didn't want to live any more. But you and what you do- you've given me hope. You've given me more than I can ever repay. So you can see that you don't need to worry about me. I'd never do anything that you didn't want me to.
That's all I wanted to tell you.
Author's notes: Next up soon. :)
